Twisted Loyalty

Chapter 14: Morning Promises

Sienna

Breakfast ends quietly, the air between Dante and me comfortable, if a little charged with the remnants of unspoken tension from last night. I finish the last bite of toast, my gaze flitting over to Dante as he leans back in his chair, sipping his coffee. His casual demeanor, the way he looks so at ease in his sweatpants and tank top, almost makes me forget the storm we're both still caught in. Almost.

I stand up, feeling a strange urge to do something, to repay him in any way I can. I glance over at the sink and decide I'll start with something simple. I gather up the plates and head to the counter, turning on the faucet to wash the dishes.

But before I can even get my hands wet, I feel Dante's presence behind me. His hand reaches out, gently stopping me. "You don't have to do that," he says, his voice soft but firm.

I turn around, frowning slightly. "I want to. You've done so much for me... It's the least I can do."

He shakes his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "There's no need, Sienna. I've got it."

The stubborn part of me flares up. I don't want to just sit here, feeling useless while he does everything. "But I want to help. I want to repay you for... everything."

His eyes soften, and there's something unreadable there for a moment. He steps closer, his hand still resting on the counter beside me. "You don't owe me anything. Just focus on yourself right now."

There's a finality in his tone, but it's gentle, and I can't help but relent. I nod, stepping aside reluctantly. "Fine. But next time, I'm helping."

A quiet chuckle escapes him as he turns to the sink. "We'll see."

I lean against the counter, crossing my arms as I watch him rinse the dishes. It's strange seeing him like this—so casual, so relaxed, scrubbing plates like it's just any other day. And it's even stranger how at home I feel here, in this house, with him. It shouldn't make sense, but it does. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe.

We fall into an easy conversation, talking about nothing in particular, just filling the space with something light. It's a welcome relief after the heaviness of the past few days.

Then Dante glances over his shoulder at me. "We'll need to go out today."

"Go out?" I raise an eyebrow, unsure what he means.

He nods, drying his hands with a dish towel. "You'll need clothes. Can't exactly keep wearing my sister's stuff." There's a hint of a smirk on his lips as he adds, "I don't mind you in my shirts, but we should get you some things of your own."

A small laugh escapes me, but then I pause, remembering something. "I have clothes back at my father's place. I could just—"

Dante cuts me off, turning to face me fully, his expression suddenly serious. "I told you, you'll never have to go back there. And I wasn't lying."

The weight of his words settles between us, and for a moment, all I can do is nod. There's a firmness in his voice, a promise that goes deeper than the surface. He really means it. I'll never have to go back to that house, back to that life. It should be a relief, and it is, but at the same time, it sends a shiver down my spine—a different kind of awareness.

I try to push the thought away, the heat rising in my chest. It's too soon to feel... this. But damn it, I can't help the way my body reacts to him. The way his presence, his voice, seems to wrap around me like a safety net I didn't know I needed.

I push off the counter, clearing my throat. "I'll go get ready then."

Dante gives me a small nod, his eyes lingering on mine for just a second longer than necessary before turning back to finish cleaning. I retreat upstairs, my heart beating just a little faster than it should.

Dante

As I lean against the counter, the house quiet except for the distant sounds of Sienna moving upstairs, I can't stop my mind from racing. Nico's words from our earlier conversation echo in my head—Enzo's gone underground, and we can't find him. My grip tightens around my phone as I stare out the window, weighing our options. The frustration is palpable, but it's not the only thing clawing at my attention.

I hear the faint creak of the stairs, and as I turn, I freeze.

Sienna steps into the kitchen, and for a moment, it feels like the world tilts on its axis. She's wearing one of my sister's shirts, but the way it hangs off her, highlighting her curves, makes it hard to focus on anything else. Her hair falls loosely over her shoulders, still damp from the shower, and the soft morning light catches her skin, making her look almost ethereal.

Fuck. She's beautiful.

The thought hits me hard, sharper than I'd expected. I can feel the heat building in my chest, the raw desire simmering beneath the surface. She moves with a quiet grace, a fragility that contrasts with the strength I know she has. And yet, all I want to do is protect her, wrap her up in my arms and keep her from the world that's hurt her so deeply.

I try to keep my expression neutral, but it's a losing battle. My eyes trace the line of her collarbone, the way the fabric clings to her, and I have to remind myself that this is not the time to get lost in thoughts like these. She's been through hell, and the last thing she needs is me losing control.

But damn, it's hard not to.

She stops in front of me, looking up with those wide, uncertain eyes, and I can see a flicker of hesitation in her expression. She opens her mouth to speak, but for a moment, I can't find words. I'm too caught up in the way her lips move, the way her hair frames her face like she belongs here, in this house, in my life.

"Everything alright?" I ask, my voice sounding rough, even to my own ears.

She nods slowly, her gaze softening, and for a split second, I feel the tension in my chest ease. But then, as if on instinct, I reach out. My hand brushes against her cheek, and before I can stop myself, I'm tucking a strand of her damp hair behind her ear.

"You're beautiful," I murmur, the words slipping out before I can catch them.

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, neither of us moves. I can see the flush creeping up her neck, her eyes widening slightly as she processes what I just said. I should pull back, give her space, but instead, I find myself stepping closer, my body towering over hers. The air between us thickens, charged with something I can't quite name, but it's undeniable. She smiles sheepishly.

"Shall we?" I ask and motion to the door.